Winter is coming? Yeah right
by banjo1988
Summary: Arya Stark has endured more than any human let alone a child should bear. When she is captured and taken to a home she's all but forgotten, it is not to friendly faces she expects to go. Robb Stark lost hope of ever finding his baby sister but the girl he finds is not the same one he remembers. When his brother returns home, they are their broken sister's last hope at salvation.
1. Chapter 1

**Stark Raving Mad**

 _This is written somewhere in the current season (7) with a change up here and there, not following a specific plot point from the show just keeping mildly with the timeline, I have changed certain things to suit me. Also the tone does not follow with the tone of GOT times in terms of language and clothing. I'm just writing for fun to get this story out of my head. I have also included background characters like guards or right hand men whose names I have made up as they are not integral to the story. I've also kept Robb Stark alive because in no form of media, book or television should he have been killed and it still bothers me that it happened. Suffice it to say that there is some semblance of a plot albeit a jumbled one in terms of GOT, the plot of this story is intact because I don't believe in not having a storyline but in terms of the show, there is reference to characters and places but that is about it for similarity. Disclaimer - I do not own Game of thrones or any characters associated with it and I mean no disrespect to the original writings in my decision to change things._

 **Arya**

There is a stone stuck in my shoe. I can feel it rolling around scraping my foot with each step. I should remove it, I want to but it's so cold and I'm really starting to worry that if I stop moving I might just completely freeze over, become a statue or a white walker. It is a white world around me as I walk, or trudge, I think trudge is a better word for the despondent lope of my uneven gait. The snow has fallen deep, even the brown bark of the trees is all but hidden beneath thick blankets of snow sticking to their craggy old trunks and branches. The faint glimpse of brown is all the colour I can see for miles. Even the sky is a deep grey, a promise of more slow. Winter wasn't coming anymore like everyone thought, it was already here. I had no idea where I was going; I'd made the decision to return to Winterfell but a few miles in that direction and I'd changed my mind again. There was nothing left for me at Winterfell, it wasn't home anymore, I didn't have a home. I'd thought to resume my earlier plan of playing judge jury and executioner with the queen but then I thought of the rumours I'd heard, rumours of the Targaryen queen and justice in the form of war and fire breathing dragons seemed a lot sweeter than a slit throat or a sword in the gut. So I was now somewhere in between, off course and aimless. It felt good; I was probably nine kinds of lost but for once I didn't care, it felt good to just walk, for that moment to be weightless, no plan of revenge no sorrow no loss. It wasn't true and if I allowed myself to think on it I probably would turn right back around but I wanted to forget, at least for a while. The stone was really starting to aggravate me now, or painful again a better word and I'd just decided to risk stopping and take it out when my skin prickled and I felt a shadow loom over me. I was fast but I'd been caught off guard, something I wanted to kick myself for, my aimless wanderings had just cost me. A hand clapped over my mouth and I was lifted off my feet. I struggled, kicked and thrashed anything to avoid being touched. I hated to be touched. I even bit what skin I could reach with my teeth but my captor was a grown man and strong, strong as the very Mountain I'd sworn to kill. A brief thought that it _was_ The Mountain crossed my mind but I figured I'd be dead already if it was. Another equally as fleeting thought entered my mind, somewhat humorously, that at least I didn't have to worry about that dam stone in my shoe anymore. It was my last thought before I was flung over a shoulder and all I could focus on was the jarring gait of the man and the impact of his back with every step, steps that caused my heart to pound and fear to claw at my skin at the contact with another human body and the potential of what could happen to me… again. My captor hadn't even bothered to speak which only angered me further, briefly sending the panic away and making me resume my useless struggles.

"Easy, I'm not taking you to your death girl," came a simple but gruff command.

 _Oh he speaks_ , I thought furiously but I obeyed the order even though it chafed at me. I would do myself no good by exhausting myself against a captor I had no hope of escaping. My energy was best left intact for when I had an opportunity to successfully escape.

"Where are you taking me?" I had to clear my throat to speak properly; my voice was rusty from disuse and laced with a healthy dose of fear.

"To the king."

"The king is dead."

"To the new king."

That shut me up; he had to be taking me to Kings Landing but who had managed to usurp Cersei? Her sons were dead there was no longer a true heir, not that her sons had been true heirs anyway. My captor did not walk long before reaching something that stopped his tracks, my upside down vantage point allowed me little in the way of sight but I realised he had arrived at wherever he'd intended to go. Definitely wasn't Kings Landing then I thought absently. I heard doors swing open and the sound was so familiar that I almost cried, almost. I'd stopped crying a long time ago. I refused to believe what my ears told me, that we were at Winterfell. Suddenly I was angry again, I didn't want to be here, my earlier aimless wandering now seemed stupid. I needed to be in Kings Landing, I needed to kill Cersei Lannister, she was still a Lannister to me, she would always be a Lannister to me; not that the name Baratheon garnered any more respect from me, after all it had been a Baratheon king that had bowed to the evil whisperings of his wife and sentenced my wolf to death for a crime she'd only committed in defence. I was only supposed to come home when it was over, when every last person that had affected my family had been killed.

"No, you can't bring me here, it isn't time, I can't be here," I wailed at him pummelling my fists against his back, kicking my booted feet against his chest. He harrumphed but it was the only response I got. Now I didn't have to be able to see to know where I was going, this land was as familiar to me as my own reflection, well, as my reflection had been, time and toil had taken its toll and I no longer recognised myself from who I used to be. Gone was the baby face of innocence and happiness, now I had dead eyes and pale cheeks, gone was the exuberant boisterous child I had once been, in its place I was hard, scarred, ruthless even. I had no room in my life for love and laughter, for family and friendship. I had lost too much, been tortured beyond what my body could endure beyond what my child mind could endure. I had pushed the memories of the family I'd once loved away, deep down where they couldn't hurt me. It left only bitterness, hate, fear and panic. We were going up stairs now, he was taking me to the banquet hall where no doubt Ramsey Bolton would do as he pleased with me. My age, my size would matter little to him. It was warm when we entered but I refused to let myself enjoy it not that I would have had time anyway, mere seconds later my captor lifted me from my post on his shoulder. I was manhandled around to face the head of the room, to the seat where my father had sat as we broke fast and supped. It rankled that that fool Bolton now disgraced the halls. I lifted my chin and glared in his direction, I would be defiant until my last breath. The man sitting on my father's chair however, was not Ramsey, it wasn't any Bolton. It was a face I had buried deep, one of the many faces I'd buried deep and I suddenly understood that I was in more danger than I would have been if it _were_ Ramsey Bolton. Physical hurt I could bear the hurt of the heart and mind I had already born too much, I had no room left to hurt.

"Arya?" the voice as familiar as it was unfamiliar rang in my ears; it was the last thing they heard before the overwhelming force of emotions sent me careening to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks to everyone for the reviews and for following my story. I have decided to post each chapter from a different P.O.V. It does mean that the chapters will be quite short but I will try and update more often to compensate. Thanks for reading and please keep reviewing, it really does make writing worthwhile and makes me want to continue. Disclaimer: Once again I do not own Game of Thrones or the characters mentioned in this story. Enjoy**_ __

 **Robb**

Being king wasn't all it made out to be. I spent most of the day planning, strategizing and taking instruction from advisors. Half the time I felt like they were more the king than I was, since they shot down every decision I made. We were plotting to attack King's Landing and take the throne by force but at the speed we were going, Cersei would be old and grey before we made any difference to the seven kingdoms. I missed the days of sword fighting with my brother Jon, of hunting with father, of tugging on Sansa's hair to hear her squeak and see her run to the mirror to check for damage, I missed Arya and her liveliness. I had grown up a lot since news of my father's death had reached Winterfell and instead of inheriting his title of Warden of the North, the northerners had named me king. It wasn't what I'd wanted but someone had to step up. I was in the banquet hall, lounging across my father's chair, most likely appearing as bored as I felt when I heard commotion outside. Sir Astin had returned from his scout. He was a big bear of a man and a man of very few words but he was also one of my most trusted men. I watched with casual interest as my man walked in with a squirming bundle in his arms. I sniggered at the fervour with which the poor creature was trying to escape; it had no chance against Astin. Astin set the person down and now my humour vanished. It was no man or even woman that he had found; it was a child, a girl if my first glance could be trusted and for one brief moment I allowed the flare of hope to burst inside me. Astin turned the child around and I nearly came out of my chair in utter disbelief.

"Arya?" I called out breathlessly; my mouth had gone instantly dry. It couldn't be, but it was. It was my little sister, the girl who had chased after Jon and I when we were kids refusing to be kept locked away with women's tasks. The girl who had learned to outshoot Bran, who had practiced swordplay before she even had father's consent and terrorised her elder more prim and ladylike sister. My heart was racing with a swarm of emotions; joy, regret, happiness, love. I stood, watching the shock on her face before her eyes rolled and she collapsed. I rushed to her, moving so fast I reached her before even Astin who was right behind her could bend to her. I gently grasped her small body and lifted her, pulling her into my arms, cradling her close. I felt tears prick at my eyes, somewhat embarrassingly so but I didn't care. My sister had been returned to me, which was all that mattered. I stood up, still holding Arya and carried her to her old bedroom, a lump forming in my throat as I laid her down on the white sheets. She looked tiny against the large bed, smaller than before she'd left Winterfell and on closer inspection I began to notice things beneath the layers of dirt and grime coating her skin. My hands clenched into fists at my sides and I gritted my teeth in raw anger as I noticed each scratch, cut and scar that marred her pale skin above her clothes. I don't know how long I sat there staring at her, willing her to wake up and smile at me. I was blind to the world around me. Someone had come in and lit the lamp and left trays of food for us but I barely noticed. I fell asleep in the chair, my head dangling from the hard top, praying to whichever God would listen to me that my baby sister would be OK.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Gosh I feel like all I ever say is sorry. I know I promised to update more regularly because the chapters would be shorter but I haven't had much motivation to write or the time for that matter. I will try to do better. Hope you haven't all lost interest in this story and will keep reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoy this latest chapter**_ __

 **Arya**

My head hurt. I could feel it and I fought the slumber that was swiftly receding. Sleep was safe, I was alone, untouched.

"Arya? Are you awake?"

I heard a deep male voice talking to me and I flinched, even in my semi consciousness. My eyelids fluttered, batting what felt like gales of wind against my cheeks.

"Arya?"

The voice spoke again.

This time I couldn't fight it and my eyes opened of their own volition. Blue eyes were staring at me; Tully eyes. Most of my siblings had inherited our mother's colouring and Robb was no exception. For a second, a brief second I wanted to cry and climb into my brother's arms but that version of me was long dead, buried beneath the snows that winter had brought. I hardened my heart, this was just a footnote in my journey and I would not allow sentimentality to sway me from my vision.

"Arya sweet sister, you have come home," Robb whispered to me.

He reached out to me but I flinched away from his raised hand. Logic told me my blood brother would not hurt me but fear did not go hand in hand with logic and I had not been touched kindly in a very long time.

"Sweetheart you know I would never hurt you, you have nothing to fear from me," I heard him croon, his voice soft and filled with sadness. I watched him hesitantly. Instinct and self-preservation warred within me battling for high ground like two armies fighting over a piece of land. Land in this case was my heart; an icy frontier protected by a wall of bitterness and indifference that I had erected to keep out the memories that could tumble it down. With my memories and emotions locked out my heart had lost the ability to care, to feel. Raw, base emotions like fear and shock and anger were all I was able to feel now, a mere shell of the grander emotions I had known as a child. Looking at my brother now, I wisely understood the power he possessed, the capability he had of hurting me and this I could not allow no matter that deep down underneath the decision to remain unmoved by his presence I wanted to jump into his arms and be a child again. Summoning up all of my will power and casual indifference I had built over the years I relaxed my features, wiping away all trace of shock and wistfulness.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked, ignoring his words of comfort.

"Less than a day, you aren't injured as far as we can tell, just exhausted by the looks of it," Robb said, watching me with a furrow in his brow and a frown on his lips.

I struggled to sit up and he reached to help me but again I instinctively flinched. I saw the hurt briefly cross his face but he covered it quickly.

"I need to go," I said simply, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. It was then I took note of my surroundings. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the stone floors, the small single bed I had spent as much time escaping as I had sleeping. I took in the small nightstands that had held very little sentimental things even as a carefree child. The world had been too exciting to spend my time cooped up in a small room. Winterfell had been too exciting. I turned back to find Robb watching me surprise on his face. Oh how I wanted to reach out to him, give him what he wanted from me but I couldn't, I didn't have it left in me to give.

"Go? But you just got here, I'm not letting you go," he told me.

I glanced sharply at him. He wasn't going to let me go? Did he really think he could stop me? I had no desire to hurt my brother but he wasn't keeping me here. I had things to do and people to kill. It was the only way I knew how to reclaim some semblance of who I used to be.

"I have to."

"Why? Why Arya, why do you have to leave us, leave me?" he pleaded.

"I still have my list," I replied instantly knowing I'd made a mistake. Nobody could know about my plan, not even my own blood.

"What list?"

"Nothing, forget it, I have to go, that's all you need to know."

"Arya."

"No Robb, I'm leaving, I wasn't supposed to be here, just forget you ever saw me," I told him. I launched myself off the bed and started for the door. I got all of three steps before I felt arms wrap around my waist. Instant panic consumed me. The feeling of being restricted and confined blinded me from everything around me, even to the person who held me, one who would not hurt me. I kicked and struggled, deaf to the soothing words being whispered.

"Arya, relax, Arya, ARYA," whispered words became a shout as my struggles increased. I felt exhaustion begin to creep over my muscles but I fought on. I could not let myself be captured, caged in. Finally I felt the arms loosen and with a final push I freed myself and made for the door, realising only then that I hadn't gotten loose of my own, Robb had released me because he'd locked the door and was now standing in front of it, his chest heaving with adrenalin. There was something that looked rather like regret on his face but I was blind to it. All I was aware of was that my brother had tried to cage me like he too knew I was the animal that I knew myself to be. I braced myself for his anger.

"What happened to you little one?" he sounded sad. There was something I vaguely recognised to be love in his voice but it was foreign to me. I looked away, hiding from his words; those secrets, the secrets of my past weren't coming out any time soon. I heard him sigh and I turned back to him.

"I can't let you go, Arya, I have no wish to keep you here against your will but winter is no place for a child let alone my sister and if I have to hold you here under lock and key in order to protect you then I will."

My eyes were fixed on him as my ears heard his words. Never mind the loving tone the sentence was voiced in, never mind the look of sheer pain and regret on his face, all I could hear was lock and key and keeping me against my will. I began to tremble in earnest. When I had seen my brother sitting in the head chair of Winterfell, I had not envisioned that I would be forced to stay. I had stupidly thought he would let me be on my way. An old expression briefly flashed to mind, something about hell and good intentions. I looked back at Robb; did he think to keep me in this room? I had spent my childhood getting out of a locked room after many a day of punishment for some prank I'd pulled or some task not done. Now my motivation was stronger, my determination unmatched.

"Do you mean to lock me away then?" I asked.

"No Arya, I cannot do that to my own sister, but no man here will allow you past the gates, you won't be able to leave the safety of the keep's walls but you will have free reign of whatever you need within them, maybe in time you will realise I'm doing this out of love and not to make life miserable for you," with that, he unlocked the door and left. I stood staring at the closed door, already plotting how to get out. I didn't think it would take me long; after all I'd had lots of practice.


	4. Author's Note (Sorry)

p class="MsoNormal"I have to say, I am not a fan of Author's notes especially if they haven't updated for a while and you're waiting for the next chapter and you see something has been posted and you're all ready to read and then it's just a boring ole author's note so knowing that, I am very sorry to do this to you all but I have to apologize in advance. I don't really know where this story is going. I was excited to write it at first but I feel like my imagination has run dry. That's why I've been taking so long to write and update. I don't want to completely abandon the story because I hate that too but yeah, it probably will be a while before I will update again. When I do it probably will be a long chapter or so because I will finish it in that post. Thanks for reading and all the reviews and I will try not to keep you waiting tooo long. span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"J/span/p 


End file.
